


Curse You, Matt Mercer (A Self-Insert Parody Fic)

by hiiimaugust



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Tumblr Users RPF, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I am a horrible human, Parody, TyJo and Jish don't show up until chapter 4, What I couldn't resist, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiiimaugust/pseuds/hiiimaugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary Sue (noun):<i>A female fanfiction character who is so perfect as to be annoying. The male equivalent is the Marty-Stu. Often abbreviated to "Sue". A Mary Sue character is usually written by a beginning author. Often, the Mary Sue is a self-insert with a few "improvements" (ex. better body, more popular, etc). The Mary Sue character is almost always beautiful, smart, etc... In short, she is the "perfect" girl. The Mary Sue usually falls in love with the author's favorite character(s) and winds up upstaging all of the other characters in the book/series/universe.</i><a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Mary+Sue"> Urban Dictionary</a></p><p>I, August McMullen, your humble author/narrator accidentally find myself in the city of Emon during the attack of the Chroma Conclave. Much to my eternal annoyance, I get myself pulled into the plot. Magic, mayhem, and cussing abound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Rule of Improv

**Author's Note:**

> This was fueled by a bit too much caffeine on what was basically a bad mental health night. I don't know how often I'm going to update it. Starts in episode 40 and written as if I never seen an episode of this show in my life.

I wake up to the sound of my mother screaming. I’ve never actually heard her scream before. Speak firmly, yell, but never a wordless sound of utter terror. Yet, I know it’s her. It can’t be anyone else. (Mostly because it sounds an awful lot like my scream of terror). It forces me out of bed and into the hall.

Only to discover we’re not in our house and my mother doesn’t look like she should.

She’s thinner and dressed strangely. No glasses, somehow she has the general appearance of being older. I figure that’s what she’s screaming about. No one likes waking up in a strange place. Then I make out her words.

DRAGON! AUGUST, WE NEED TO LEAVE!”

My mother never calls me by my middle/preferred name. She refuses to with the devotion of a nun. In fact, lately, she’s refused to call me anything at all. “What?”

My mother points out a nearby glassless window opening. There, just within our line of sight, is a gigantic white dragon.

“Fuck.”

“Language!” she barks. “Hurry up and get dressed! I can’t believe I let you that job as a barmaid! You shouldn’t be asleep right now.”

I find my way back to wherever I was sleeping and locate a trunk. The clothes inside are simple, almost medieval in style. Not surprising, given that there’s a dragon outside. I pull them on, groan at the fact that I’m _way_ smaller than I ought to be, and then reach to push my fringe behind my ears.

Only to discover my ears are pointed.

“August Longbottom, get your stupid half-elf ass out here.”

This is almost unbelievable. The full name is like writing-class worst nightmare. The only two worst last names I can think of are my own and Way. It doesn’t take me long to realise I don’t need glasses or motility aids. All I need now is magical abilities and I’m screwed. Unless I die by a mixture of rampaging dragon and angry mother. (Honestly, that might be preferable.)

“Coming!” I grab a small backpack and book it, following my-not-exactly-mother down the stairs and into the busy street. Judging by the screams and the stampede, getting out of town is a common action in such situations.

“If we get separated, we’re meeting at Greyskull keep.”

I want to scream that I don’t know what that means but I can hear the voice of my former acting professor say “The first rule of acting is ‘yes, and…’ Take what you’re given and deal with it.” I never thought I’d have to use it off stage. “Yes, ma’am.”

Like the worst bit of foreshadowing I could imagine, we get separated quickly. I follow the crowd, trying to block out the screams. The next thing I know, I’m standing with about fifty other people outside what must be a keep. Through a lot of luck, I’m close to the doors. The man next to me is trying to calm the small child in his arms and is desperately clutching a girl’s hand.

The only thing I can think to do is start humming the last song I listened to. (Which unfortunately was Love Bug by the Jonas Brothers.) The toddler stops fussing. My head is at just the right height for them to wrap their fingers in my hair. It hurts but not as much as the bumps and bruises I got along the way.

“Thank you,” the man whispers.

I smile up at him and switch songs. The doors open and we rush through.

Only for the white dragon to come into sight again. The man screams and pulls his children close. A white fog appears above us but it doesn’t seem to do any good. I hear what can only be described as a gunshot and then something comes to mind.

It’s words. Nothing I can understand but I know what they do. It’s like instinct. And it’s fucking magic. I don’t want to do it but I have to. The little girl standing beside her father is staring at me with wide eyes. “Sir,” I say, then clear my throat. “Sir, I can get one of your little ones to safety.”

The man stares at me.

“Take Hannah,” the girl whispers. “Please.”

The father looks between his two daughters. “Are you sure?”

“I can get her across the courtyard and into that building over there. Please, trust me.” I don’t want to be a hero but I have to do something.

The man looks around him. I seem to be the only one who has noticed the man with his arms full. He thrust the toddler into my arms and scoops up the older up in her stead. “How will I find you?”

“Just scream August really loud. I’ll hear you.” I start muttering the words that my head gave me. Then, I feeling like I was being sucked into something and then I stepped onto solid ground. It crosses my mind that I probably used some sort of portal but all I can think about is the wailing screaming thing in my arms. I rush the rest of the way into the building.

And now I have my arms full of toddler. My brain quickly jumps to the most cliché thing I can think of. Unexpected parenthood. Dragons, toddlers, and bears oh my! I find a quiet corner and start bouncing the little thing. I remind myself firmly that _her_ name is Hannah and start humming again. I don’t have enough courage to try singing aloud.

It takes a good hour and a half of me trying to calm her down for her to fall asleep in my arms. She’s heavy but it’s not as bad as it could be. I shift her weight a little.

“Are you August? Or possibly Hannah?” A surprisingly calm-looking man, armed with a cross-bow appears.

“I’m August, this is Hannah.”

“There’s a man looking for you over in the Temple of Sarenrae.” 

The look of confusion on my face must speak for itself.

He leads me to a chapel. There, I’m rushed by the man and his other daughter. “Oh, thank Bahamut. Is she alright? Are you alright?”

“She’s fine. I got her to fall asleep. Eventually.” I carefully passed her over. “I’m glad you both made it in okay.”

“Papa’s arm got frozen,” the little girl said solemnly. “But the girl gnome fixed it.”

“Nice.” It’s awkward. I feel like I have a big ‘I’m a Mary-Sue’ sign stapled to my back. “It was nice to meet you but I need to find a quiet place to think.”

“If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to find me.”

I nod, as if I understand (I don’t) and then do my best to slide into the shadows. Dodging people as I go, I make it up the stairs and to a ruined part of the building with ease. Even when I had a visible limp, I was good at going about unnoticed. Thank goodness that ability stuck around.

It’s not until I’m 110% sure I’m alone that I let myself freak out. I let my brain go through every possibility as to why I’m here instead of in my hometown. I’m in a coma and dreaming. I died and have been reincarnated. Powerful drug(s) and/or plant(s). A highly advanced virtual reality program. Spontaneous wormhole swallowed the planet Earth and by some fluke of astrophysics I ended up here. ALIENS. The worst but also best practical joke ever. There are lots of options.

None of those options involve a way for me to get home.

I don’t know how long I sit on the rumble from the roof. I’m in shock, perhaps disassociated, because I don’t notice the time or when someone’s hand touches my shoulder. It’s not until a British voice says, “Hey, kid,” that I react.

“Are you alright?” he asks. He looks like he might be the hero here. Hooded cloak, the same pointed ears as me, the sort of expression that strikes me as some sort of rouge or ranger in D&D art.

My face is hot and wet with tears and it’s all I can do to shake my head. “I want to go home.” My voice sounds young, not 24, more like it was at 14. I distantly wonder if that’s part of this mess, teenage body, teenage hormones. The average first-time 11-15 writer’s version of me. I haven’t come across a mirror or looking glass to see what I look like yet. I could look like a complete stranger to my own eyes.

He starts leading me away from the rubble. “What’s your name?”

 _Yes, and…_ “August Longbottom.”

“Human name?” There’s another elf-like person with him. Why hadn’t I noticed her before? They could be brother and sister but I don’t know how elves are supposed to look here.

“Human mother.” I try to smile. “I don’t know who my father is.” My words sound vulgar and clash with their smooth accents but I’m not in the mood to put on airs. “I didn’t get the chance to demand she tell me.”

“She’s dead then.”

“I’m not sure. We got separated. She doesn’t like answering questions.” I’m not lying. _My_ mother never talks about my father. I assume this mother is the same. “Look, thanks for caring but I want to be alone.”

“So, the man with his hands full of little girl isn’t your uncle?”

“No.”

“He seemed worried.”

“I’m fine and older than I look, by the way.”

The woman sighs and hands me a bedroll of some sort. “Alright. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

I don’t tell her I fully intend to wake up in my own universe in the morning.


	2. Screw The Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get even more cliché, as I have a, huh, conversation with Vax and Vex.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ I don’t wake up in my own universe. I wake up on the cold hard ground with a kink in my neck and something in my face.

I should say _someone_ actually. A rather small someone wearing plate armour and a confused expression. She’s blonde and I suspect not-exactly human. “How did you get up here?” she asks.

“Mysterious magic mist?” I mumble, borrowing a phrase from my D&D days. “Also the stairs were involved.” I sat up, fully aware that my hair must look like crap.

“Oh, you’re the half-elf girl that saved the baby!”

 _Ah, yes, the traitorous, cliché, pointy af ears_ “August Longbottom. And I didn’t save her. I just got her across the courtyard quicker.”

“I’m Pike Trickfoot. I saw the father’s arm. Had he been holding something, it would have died. _She_ would have died.”

I try to ignore her and get up, carefully rolling up the blanket. “Do you know where I’m supposed to return this? I got it from a woman who looks a little like me.”

“Vex and Vax. You should come downstairs and get something to eat.”

 _They’re twins. They have to be with those names._. “I’m fine.”

“Nobody’s fine right now. There’s no shame in admitting it.”

 _I really don’t need a cliché lecture on working together in a crisis. Or not being alone or whatever it is she’s going to say._ “I really am fine, Miss Trickfoot,” I lie. “I’m nothing to worry about.”

I can tell she sees right through me but she’s too kind to point it out.

In order to avoid the man and his daughters, I force myself into kitchen duty. It’s not that hard, since all we’re making is porridge. The work keeps me busy enough that I can’t let my mind wander. (Especially since the cook keeps calling ‘Miss Longbottom’. Answering to an unfamiliar name is difficult).

The older little girl finds me anyway. She’s surprising bright-eyed for having gone through the trauma of being attacked by a dragon. “Hi!” she says loudly. “My name is Rin, I’m Hannah’s big sister.”

“Hello, Rin. You should really stay by your father, you know.”

She shrugs. “He’s asleep. _finally._ You used magic to save Hannah.”

I shrug in reply. I don’t want to be talking to her but I don’t really have a choice.

“You started saying some strange words and then, poof, you were gone.”

“I didn’t go that far. It’s just a trick, really. One minute you’re in one place. The next you’re hiding behind a tree.”

“Can you show me how to do it? Or some other spells?”

“I think you’re a bit young for it.”

“I’m five.”

“I’m twenty four.”

The cook looks confused. “You are?”

 _Oh, gods. I don’t know how half-elves here age. Shit._ “I don’t look my age?”

“So, I can learn magic in twenty years?” Rin at least doesn’t seem to notice my nervousness.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask your father.”

As if I had summoned him, the man appeared. “Rin, there you are!”

The little girl flushed a brilliant red. “Hi, Papa.”

“Don’t ‘Hi, Papa,’ me, little lady. Now’s not a good time to wonder off. Sorry.”

“It’s not my kitchen.” I nod over to the cook. “She calls the shots.”

The cook, looking a little frazzled, took a few seconds to realise anyone was speaking to her. “Oh, Miss Longbottom. You’re still here.”

“Please, all me Gus. I’m a barmaid, not a lady.”

“Gus is a boy’s name.” Rin sounds confused and looks in-between me and her father. “She is a girl, right?”

Her poor father didn’t say anything.

Another series of words come to mind and I instantly know what they do. I can’t help but chuckle. It’s a cliché but something I’ve always wanted to do. I say the words quickly. It’s almost effortless compared to the last spell I did. (Which I admittedly stumbled over).

Rin gasps.

I thought it would feel funny but it doesn’t. Flat chest, a slight change in weight and centre of gravity. My body feels slightly warmer and _right._ I can’t be sure without some sort of mirror but I’d venture a guess that I look a bit like Patrick Stump, circa the cover of Take This To Your Grave. After all, I do #goals on his appearance in relation to gender transitioning.

“That’s impressive. You didn’t skip a beat with the stirring.” It’s one of the twins—the male one. I don’t know which is Vax and which is Vex. He’s looking me up and down and then he says something in a language I don’t understand.

“You really don’t know shit about being half-elven, do you?” He snorts. “Come on. We want to talk to you before we leave.”

“I really should…” I keep stirring.

Hannah and Rin’s father takes the spoon. “Don’t worry. I have this.”

I don’t want to talk to Vax and Vex. I want no role in the plot or whatever the fuck is going to happen next. Nothing good can come from being a central character. No good at all. Which is why I’m giving Vax and Vex my best death glare.

“Could you please turn back to normal? It’d be fucking weird to have this conversation with someone who looks like a human boy.”

I let the spell slip and sigh as I turn back into my normal form. Then, I cross my arms. “Fine. What so you want?”

The female one gives me a sympathetic smile. “How old are you really? You don’t have to lie to us.”

“I don’t have to tell you either. Say what you need to say and let me go.”

They share a look.

My mind automatically jumps to the worse possible conclusion. After all, everything was bad here. “You think we’re related, don’t you?”

“We know we have a half-sister, but nothing else about her.”

“Well, it’s not me, I can tell you that much.”

“You said yourself you don’t know who your father is.”

“Well, I highly doubt he’s also yours, since if you know about her then he’d know about her. My father knows squat.”

“Our father didn’t seek us out until we were ten. You’re what? Thirteen?”

“I’m not your sister.” Even if it’s true, denying it is better than accepting it. Screw the rules of acting. “May I take my leave?” I give them a curtesy. 

His hand touched my arm. “Kid, you don’t have to go through this alone. Even if we aren’t related, we could help you find your father.”

“I don’t know if my mother’s dead yet. Even if she was, I wouldn’t go find my father. So, fuck off, yeah?”

Much to my surprise, the male wrapped me in a hug. “It’s okay to cry.”

I push against his chest. I’m not that sort of upset and I don’t _want_ to cry. I’m frustrated and angry and trying desperately not to get involved with these people. “Let me go.”

“Vax, let her go. I told you she wasn’t going to accept our help.”

It’s all I can do to stay perfectly still as they walk away.

It’s not surprising at all that Mark from RENT’s voice starts playing in my mind. _How the hell we get here? How the hell?_ The question repeats and I find myself standing outside the temple of whatever the Goddess’ name was. It’s weird, how the small reminder that people are religious here calms me down.

Rin, in all her little girl glory, comes up to me. “The people who live here left through a magic door in their kitchen. Oh, you’re a girl again!”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not any of our business how they come and go.”

“But you can use magic. I thought maybe you felt them go.”

I know a little-girl-logic of a magical door might not be a magical door at all but it’s tempting. Anything could be lead to getting my sorry ass home. “I didn’t feel anything. And they’re grown-ups. You shouldn’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. They’re going to stop the dragons.”

 _Oh, you poor little thing._ “You should probably get back to your father.”

“But—”

“No buts.” I steer her back inside.

Her father approaches me again, this time holding onto Hannah. “Sorry about this. She tends to wander off. I hope Hannah doesn’t take after her. I don’t think I can handle two of them at once. Not alone.”

_He’s a widower._

“You’ll look for the magic door, right?” Rin says cheerfully. “It’s in the pantry!”

“It’s not smart to poke into magic you don’t understand and it’s not magic I understand.” I really don’t want to tell them I’m considering it. Because it sounds like a stupid idea. An excellent way to move the plot along but a dumb way to do it. “So, no. No magic doors for me.”

“You’re a very wise young woman, August,” her father says. “Thanks again for catching Rin.”

“It’s not a problem, sir.” I curtsey again (why me do you think this okay?) and then slip away, heading for the kitchen.


	3. In The Thick of It Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well then. I just can't stay out of trouble, can I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real, non-narrating author August here! I am totally surprised by all the positive feedback and hits. I meant to update this sooner but I was ill and in and out of the doctor's all week. (I had gravel embedded in my toe). Although I do not lack for plot for this fic, I might step back for a little bit to focus on my other one. (It's not for Critical Role but you all are welcome to read it too.)

The ‘magic door’ wasn’t a door at all, just a long tunnel. I double check that no one is looking for me and then start down it. The overall eeriness of having good vision rocks me a little but I keep going, focusing on what must be a torch ahead of me.

Then, the bickering starts. “Wait! How is Trinket supposed to climb that?” the female elf, Vex, says.

“I could turn him into a mouse?” Another female says. “Or a kitten again.”

“No. It needs to be something that can fight. Like a racoon.”

“I could turn him into a hawk and use him—No, wait. I can’t do those two spells at the same time.”

“Well, we can’t just leave him down here.”

I hear what sounds like a bear.

 _I am in a cramped tunnel with who knows how many skilled warriors and a fucking bear. I am going to die._ Still, I press forward.

The argument eventually is worked out and they settle on turning the bear into a red panda. A male voice yells that something wasn’t locked and there’s some scuffling as people exit the tunnel. I come along as quickly as I can.

The ladder’s intimidating. I don’t care much for not being on the ground but I manage it. Only to be greeted by a very surprised male gnome at the top. “Who are you?”

“Well, shit.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Well.”

“No. Um, my name is August.” The elf twins turn but my eyes were focus on the giant (and the bear). “This was a bad idea.”

“You’re right, it fucking was.” Vax (at least I think he’s Vax) says. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I wince.

“She probably thought we could help her find her mother.” Another female half-elf (elf elf? Frankly, I don’t know the difference) says. “Hi, there. Are you alright?”

I motion down the hole. “Nevermind. I’ll just go back to the keep.”

A “You can stay.” Overlapped with someone’s “That’s a good idea.”

“We don’t even know if she can defend herself!” Vax exclaims .

“She’s probably going to sneak out again. She’ll be safer with us than on her own.”

“I’ll go back with her and make sure Jarrett or someone watches her.”

“I’m standing right here. I’m not going to run off. I’m not fucking stupid. There’s a dragon involved.”

“We need to help her.”

Vax pulls Vex aside. I can’t hear any of their intense-seeming conversation but when it’s finished, Vax sighs. He places the hilt of a dagger in my hand with a surprising amount of force. “Do you know how to use this?”

“You’re asking me if I know how to stab someone?”

“Yes. Magic can’t always save your ass.”

“You know, you’re being awfully rude for someone who was convinced we were related this morning. I don’t know if it’s your personality or a weird form of concern or a fart stuck crossways but let me perfectly clear.” I hold the dagger out to him. “I can handle myself.”

“You’re related?” One of the others says in surprise. “How?”

“We’re not. It was a case of mistaken identity.” I keep my voice cool. “Have you decided if I’m coming with you or going back yet? I defer to your judgement.”

“You’re not going with us without a weapon.” Vax says. “But we could use another body. Keep a hand on that dagger. If you throw it, it’ll blink back to my belt and you’ll be unarmed.”

I want to tell him one little dagger will be no use against a dragon but he looks annoyed. The dangerous sort of annoyed. Under his intense stare, I suddenly remember that I have no idea where I am or what I’m doing. “Yes, sir.”

In the marching order, I end up next to a young-ish looking white-haired guy. To my surprise, he’s armed with two guns and a sword. He looks at me sympathetically. “Are you alright?” he whispers.

I nod once.

I don’t know how long we walk but eventually we make it to what someone whispers is the south gate. That’s when I see her. My not-exactly-mother, encased in ice, frozen like Lot’s wife, looking over her shoulder, back at the town. I don’t hesitate. I _can’t_ hesitate. I push past the white haired man and up to her.

Vex puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let me try,” she whispers.

The glow coming from her hand doesn’t do anything.

“They’ve been here for at least eight hours.” Vax’s voice is impossible to read. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“Can I—May I have a moment?” I gulp. “And some space?”

I try to blame the resulting emotions on the body I’m in. Unfortunately, the excuse falls flat. It’s definitely my mother. I can see the ring of yellow around her pupils, rimmed by a blue as cold as the ice she’s in. Long, stringy hair, with more salt than pepper. There’s a single book in her arms, along with the other items. It’s not a stretch to see my real mother in her place. The only thing familiar in this place is gone.

“Oh, Mama.”

A gentle hand starts rubbing my back.

I step away from it. “I’m not fond of being touched.”

The ginger-haired woman’s face falls. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry we can’t do more.”

“This isn’t your fault. It doesn’t even matter, really.” I think if one of them had anything to do with me being here, they would have acted differently. “She’s not even the only dead person here.”

“She was your mother. She matters to you.” She moves to pat me again but I glare at her. “What was her name?”

I recite my mother’s first name, hoping it’s correct here too. Then, I start to hum a hymn my real mother and I discussed as one we both wanted performed at our funerals. I can’t bring myself to say the words.

One of the party members, a man as small the woman I had met this morning, apparently recognises the tune. He starts singing the words, in a nice tenor voice. I gulp in air and then pick up the harmony. He gives me a bright smile. We finish and I dry my face. (My thoughts are briefly distracted by the fact that I need something to wear that isn’t this itchy dress). I sneeze.

“We need to get going,” I say finally. “My mother would call me a fool if I got myself killed right next to her body.”

We turn from the frozen corpses, only for someone to start approaching us. Vex notches an arrow, the red-haired half-elf sets her hands a blaze, and Vax pushes me behind him.

Whomever it is promptly starts speaking in gibberish. Judging by Vax and Vex’s faces, it’s something they understand. At first, I think it might be elf but the speaker isn’t an elf or half-elf. I’d bet the contents of the bag I left at the keep that he’s a half-orc.

“You’re from the Clasp?”

“Yes. You’re the first people I’ve recognised and showed myself to. I need to get back to the tunnels but the entrance at the temple is destroyed.”

“I could bend us a connecting tunnel,” the red-haired woman says. Then, her face falls slightly. “Actually, no, that would take hours.”

“We’re attempting to get to Gilmore’s Glorious Goods. Do you know where it is?”

“I do.” The half-orc looks directly at me. “Why do you have a kid with you?”

“I wouldn’t call Longbottom a child. A teenager, perhaps, but not a child. Rest assured, she can handle herself.”

“Can she?”

I can tell I’m being goaded. “Magic is a limited resource, sir, and I’d rather not waste it on you.”

“Sorceress, are you?”

“I’m more of a general practitioner, sir.” I hope the ‘I don’t know what I’m capable of’ isn’t obvious. “I can fight.”

Of course we get into one.

It’s fast. So fast, I can barely keep. There’s lightning and the bear and someone turns themselves into a tiger. One of this group is big—really big. I would have much preferred to just watch, but I find myself pulled into it.

It turns out my fighting style is mostly fists, elbows, and knees. I use the dagger exactly once, knocking my attacker squarely under the chin with the butt end. He falls to the ground, unconscious.

The last man standing appears to be charmed. Vax looks over at me, surprised. “You took that on one all on your own.”

I shrug.

“You weren’t kidding when you said the little half-elf could handle herself.” The half-orc says. “You don’t have a scratch on you and no armor.”

“Self-preservation is excellent motivation.” I shrug again and try to turn the conversation away from my apparent skills in battle. “Can we get what we’re here for and go please?”


	4. It's Probably A Dream (But Dreams Aren't Supposed to Hurt, Right?!?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took forever. I'm also horribly behind on watching the episodes. Because Critical Role is not main fandom by any stretch of the imagination. Have this horrid and rather short chapter.

What we’re looking for ends up being a who. I don’t know why I’m surprised that we find the royal family. I have to close my eyes to keep from rolling them. Luckily, the queen only questions the inclusion of the half-orc, not me. I try my best to remain unnoticed. I’ve already done too much to mess up the story.

Which why I groan when Vax and Vex pull me aside when we get back to the keep.

“Don’t.” Vax says before I can protest. “We know.”

There’s only one thing they could ‘know’. I don’t know how they could know because I barely understand it myself. “Excuse me?” I whisper.

“You’re not from Emon. The city is completely unfamiliar to you.”

“So?” I try to ignore the fear turning in my stomach. “I’m sure plenty of people relocate. I’m from some teeny village you’ve never heard of.” It’s true. The town I lived in last is worlds away from here. “Is there any more my personal business you want to pry into?”

“We’re not trying to pry. We’re trying to help. We’re going to be moving most of the refugees to Whitestone.”

“And you’re telling me why?”

“You can trust us. No need to sound so suspicious.” Vex tries to give me an assuring smile.

“I don’t have to trust you. There’s no _reason_ to trust you. You may be heroes, but I’m not in the business of becoming one. I followed you because you I was _fucking_ curious, not out of any desire to help. If Whitestone is where everyone is going, so will I. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Absolutely fucking certain.”

The twins stalk away, leaving me standing quite awkwardly in the kitchen. Then, the white haired guy from the marching order appears. “Excuse me, Miss Longbottom, might I have a word?”

I roll my eyes. “Sure, why not? Since everyone else seems interested in me. What can I help you with, sir?” I try to make my words drip with sarcasm. Clearly, I fail, because he keeps talking.

“My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossoski de Rollo the Third. I have a question about your fighting style.”

“Um.” I don’t if my reaction is to his question or his name. (It’s an impressively horrendous name, in my humble opinion). “Okay?”

“Was it, by chance, The Way of The Open Hand?”

“I don’t even know what that means.” I settle for honesty. “I was running on adrenaline. I’m not a fighter. And holy shit, it’s not Miss. My name is August. Look, I’m exhausted. Is there anything else you need?” I don’t tell him that I’m hoping falling asleep will mean waking up where I’m supposed to be.

“You don’t look well,” he admits. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. Perhaps you should take a short rest?”

I don’t get a chance, because as soon as I’m in the area where most of the refuges are gathered, I’m yelled at by one of the young men. “Elf girl! You left this behind.”

If this were a game of DnD, I would have critically failed a dexterity saving throw, because my bag comes flying toward me and hits me square in the face.

“Rob, man, what the frick?”

“What?”

Another young man approaches me. Although he lacks the tattoos and punk hairstyle and seems to have more Asian influence, I am looking at someone that can only be this universe’s version of Josh Dun. _Well, that’s one tally for it being a dream_ , I think, half-dazed.

“My name is William,” he says. “May I heal that before it bruises?”

I nod. _Holy fuck, it hurts_.

He wraps one hand around something hanging from his neck and reaches out to my face with the other. I close my eyes against the brightness of divine energy. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be a cleric. A rouge or a bard or maybe even a monk but not a cleric. What’s the chance that his friend is this places Tyler?

Once my face is healed, Rob comes over, looking apologetic. He looks closer to Tyler than William does to Josh. “Sorry. I don’t know my own strength.”

“Unlucky catch on my part,” I mumble. “Thank you, William.”

“It’s not a problem. I have a duty.” He reaches for the bag and then hands it to me. “Here. We made sure no one tried to take it.” 

I open the bag. All it has in it is a simple set of clothes. I smile when I realise it contains pants. _Finally, something practical_. “Would you gentlemen excuse me?”

Finding a place private enough to change proved difficult. I dodge little Rin, almost bump into Vax, avoid a couple of other refugees, and then head upstairs. Vex catches me. “What are you doing up here?”

I sigh. “I really don’t want to talk to you. You understand that, right?” I’m reaching a level of exhaustion that makes me wobble on my feet. I need normal clothes and a nap. “You’re not my sister, go the fuck away.”

“You know, constantly saying that won’t make it true, right?”

“Not your sister,” I say again anyway. “I need to change clothes. Go away.”


End file.
